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Hands clad in pale blue nitrile gloves, applying a clear mystery gel to your shoulders and forearms flashed in front of your inner eyes. Their touch tender, yet controlling.
The floor, on which you had spent the past weeks of your life, was cold and rough. The concrete was in no way comfortable to sit on. Equally cold and rough was the concrete wall you were leaning your head against, your tousled and greasy hair sticking to the rough texture of the sharp cement. The damp chill crept through the flowering skin of your cheek, the sweaty shirt you were wearing and through the iron shackles, that tied you to this room. It should send shivers up and down your spine, yet you were hot and drenched in your own sweat from the past weeks.
You moved your head, your bumpy skin rubbed uncomfortably against the rocky surface. Rough hairs, that had grown on your jaw, straining against the movement. A few strands of hair fell down your forehead, covering your eyes. It had been cut short when you first awoke in this room. Since then it had not been trimmed again. A groan left your lips. You were hungry. So hungry. Constantly. Without end. Ever so barely satisfied with the food you were given. Deep down you knew there was nothing edible that could ever satisfy the hunger.
Like now, when the hunger was at its worst, they would come to you. The person you thought to be your captor. As always, you could hear the square block heel of their sleek leather loafers, clacking down the hallway, through the heavy door. Giving you a moment to mentally prepare yourself before they would step through it. In their white nurse’s gown, its hem hitting just below their knees. Their defined calves left exposed, begging you to rake your fingers through the soft hairs growing on them. To press your core close, so that the friction might satisfy the hunger.
The rattle of plastic wheels, shaking an aluminum frame and the various objects on it accompanied the clacking of the heels. It made your mouth water. Their routine had trained you like a dog, chained away to wait for its owner to come and bring you the world. You sat up straight. The way they liked it. On your knees, chained hands resting on them, head tilted down in obedience. It always earned you a delighted smile from them.
A shrill creaking announced the opening of the door. It took you almost every ounce of your composure not to look up at your captor. They were good to you, if you behaved, it was all you needed to do to please them.
Their polished leather loafers came into your field of view, pushing a metal cart in front of them. The smell of hearty food crept up your nostrils. Your body reacted by producing more saliva. You swallowed it all. They didn’t like you slobbering all over yourself. Not before your regular inspections.
Your eyes fixed on their calves, as they started to walk towards you. As beautiful as the days before. You wondered what it would be like to rub your face against them. Would they like it?
A hand came to rest atop your head, strong fingers gliding through the messy strands of your hair. You closed your eyes, leaning into the soft touch. Your captor let out a pleased sigh. “You’ve become such a good boy,” they muttered. It sent cold shivers down your spine, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and forcing a moan out of you. They hummed. The pitch of your voice sent waves of shock through your body whenever you heard it. It had begun to drop ages ago, but you never got accustomed to the ever lowering and scratching sound.
The hand left the top of your head and moved down to cup your jaw, tilting your face up. It was a tender touch, yet the coarse hair that had grown all over your cheek and the painful acne made it all too uncomfortable. But you let them. Their thumb softly brushing over your cheek as they inspect you closely with their piercing hazel gaze.
“I’ve got something special for you today, my dear pet,” they said while placing a plate with something edible on the floor in front of you. You dug in with your bare hands without even registering what it was you were ingesting. The hunger was just too much, and their voice was so soft and affectionate. They’d never let anything bad come your way.
They chuckled at the image of you, so desperate for whatever they might hand to you. You trusted them completely.
“Oh dear,” their voice sounded scolding when you looked up from your now licked clean plate. You knew immediately what was wrong. “Good boys don’t make a mess of themselves! Clean up!”
The command was clear and a damp piece of cloth was thrown onto the floor in front of you. You whined softly, taking the cloth and carefully rubbing it over your sore skin. The feeling of remorse for your lack of self control consuming you from deep inside.
“Much better,” they purred, yet it was obvious in their tone that they weren’t praising you. It was just enough for the guilt to retreat to a singular place inside your chest, but not enough to make it disappear completely. How could you dare misbehave like that?
“Now,” they began as they took the empty plate and dirty cloth away from you. “I promised I’ve got something special for you.”
You watched in anticipation as they rummaged around on their cart, back turned to you, blocking your view from what they were doing. There was the sound of glass and metal clanking, paper being ripped and possibly lids being screwed. A glass bottle was put down rather carelessly, rattling the whole aluminum frame and the other vials on it.
The Nurse turned around, in their hand the silver needle of a syringe gleamed in the sickly cool light on the ceiling. Its chilling spark reflected in their eyes. They towered over you like a predator about to pounce on their prey, ready to sink their tiny teeth into your flesh and tear you apart bit by bloody bit.
“Don’t worry,” there was still a certain warmth to their voice, but now it made your blood run cold and sent shivers down your spine. “I’m also not a big fan of needles, but we can’t always avoid them, can we?”
You let out a high pitched yelp, jumping to press yourself against the cold wall. There was nowhere for you to go. Nowhere to hide. They came closer to you with every step, seeming to grow taller and taller. The needle getting ever longer and thicker, until you could see your own terrified reflection in it, glowing with grease.
Panic seeped into every fiber of your body, as you rattled on the chains cuffed to your wrists. It hasn’t been your first attempt to free yourself, by far. You knew it was a waste of energy to even try. But in the face of the ever sharpening needle in front of you, all reason was forgotten as you thrashed against the confines of your chains.
It only earned you a deranged chuckle from your captor, before their nitrile gloved hand came down on your face with an eardrum shattering slap. Your head snapped to the side, the force of the motion pulling your whole body with it. Next thing you knew, the heel of the Nurse’s shoe was digging into your ribs, right underneath your shoulder blade. Sharp sparks of pain shot through your body as they dug in their heel further. You struggled against their weight on your shoulder, trying to free yourself from their grasp.
“Down!”
The command was barely above normal speaking volume, yet sharp enough to pierce through the sounds of your laborious struggle against the heel on your back. It made you still immediately, submitting entirely to your captors will.
“Good boy,” they praised, but it didn’t feel earned. The words didn’t come out genuine, they were dripping with displeasure. It hurt.
A cold but professional gentleness had returned to their touch, as their thumb hooked under your waistband and pulled down your pants, revealing the fuzzy cheeks beneath.
Their weight on your back shifted. Now it was the ball of their foot pushing down on your spine, exchanging the piercing sting of their heel for a dull pressure, that traveled through your torso and spread out where your chest connected with the floor.
Before you knew it, a pointed, dull pain spread through your ass cheek. A noise, somewhere between a surprised scream and a pained whimper, came out of your mouth. It was humiliating.
You could feel the needle digging deeper into your flesh, millimeter by millimeter, as you grid your teeth to keep any and all sounds in. Both to hide your misery from your captor, out of pride, while also trying to stay calm and obedient to please them.
A dull sensation spread throughout the fat of your cheek, as the injected liquid filled in. You couldn’t fight back a low moan in the back of your throat, that went unacknowledged by the Nurse. They harshly retracted the needle, making you gasp out loud, and pulled your pants back up wordlessly.
Their foot disappeared off your back, as they turned to get their cart.
“See again you tomorrow, pretty boy!” they bid their farewell in a sing-sang voice, giving you one last gleaming smile, before exiting through the heavy metal door and locking it behind them.
The next morning you woke up panting, and drenched in sweat. Heat was pooling between your legs. It felt tight. Something felt incredibly, and uncomfortably tight. But when you reached down, nothing was there. Nothing that corresponded with the heavy appendage you could feel, hanging between your legs. Pulsing almost painfully. Hard.
But all you could feel was the enlarged glans of your sensitive growth, denting the thin fabric of your pants. Your fingers barely brushing against it made you yelp out loud, as violent shocks rocked your body. It was a feeling so intense, so uncomfortable in its pleasure. You couldn’t stop.
Your fingertips flicked against your glans again. The feeling caused you to fall forward, landing face first, ass up on the floor. You let out a moan, as you lowered your hips down and felt the small growth between your legs connect with the shackles around your wrists. There was no stopping it now, your hips had fully disconnected from your control and were now rutting against the cold metal.
All dignity and self control had left your body as you kept grinding on your wrists, moaning obscenely loud, only chasing the release of the tight knot, that was starting to form in your lower stomach. You needed to cum, and you needed to cum now! You were so lost in the chase for your release, you didn’t even notice the door swinging open, until the high pitched voice of the Nurse echoed through the room.
“What do you think you’re doing? Look at you, you’re behaving like a filthy mutt!”
You stopped your movements instantly, looking up at them with big eyes. Shame rose in your guts, bubbling upwards and clogging your throat. You tried swallowing it down, without any success.
The Nurse stood before you, their brow raised, hands pressed into their sides, hips cocked to the side, the tip of their shoe tapping the floor in an agitated rhythm. Their gaze was firmly fixed on you. But all that you could see were their exposed calves.
Before you could stop yourself you were already wrapped around one of their legs, one hand clutching onto the skirt of their uniform, the other digging its nails into the skin of their thigh beneath the fabric. You whined and whimpered as you kept grinding against their shin, hiding your face in the folds of their skirt, so the stiff fabric might somehow shield you from the humiliation. Tears stung in your eyes. You couldn’t stop yourself, you wanted this so bad. Needed this so bad.
“Oh dear,” their voice was warm again, as their fingers brushed through your hair. It was a touch so gentle, you almost let out a scream when they unexpectedly grabbed a fist full of your hair and forced you to look up at them. Despite the harsh touch, their smile was kind, barely masking the dangerous sparkle of their eyes. “You must be feeling it real bad, don’t you?”
You responded with a quiet whimper, rolling your hips against their leg again. Their smile grew into a pitying expression, as they observed your struggle for any stimulation you could get.
“I can make it better,” they offered. “Do you want me to make it better?”
“Yes!” you yelped, your voice breaking. Tears began to stream down your face as you continued to beg, “Yes, please make it better! Please! I can’t do it!”
“Then let go,” they cooed, letting go of your hair and easing the pain on your scalp by gently stroking over the back of your head. You caught yourself leaning into the touch, closing your eyes and letting out a low hum in the back of your throat. Without thinking about it, you followed the Nurse’s command, letting go of their leg and shifted to kneel on the floor in front of them.
Despite your best efforts, you couldn’t bring yourself to let your hands rest on your thighs. You were completely under the control of your own lusts, pushing your chained arms between your legs and continuing to rut against them, while soft moans spilled over your chapped lips.
The Nurse turned away from you and towards their cart, arranging things on top of it. You watched their back as they pulled a fresh pair of light blue gloves over their hands, before they suddenly picked up a glass vial and a syringe.
Your eyes grew wide as your body, once again, flooded with immediate panic. The last injection had to be the thing that put you in this situation in the first place, there was no way in hell you’d allow them to give you another one. Your first instinct was to press yourself against the wall, to get as much space between them and you as possible, but again, you were left with no way out of this situation. You were trapped and left to their mercy, as they once more towered over you with a terrifyingly thick needle.
“Please! Please don’t!” you were begging for their help only a moment ago, now you were pleading for their mercy. “Not another injection!”
“Shhh,” they hushed you, a warm smile on their face, as they crouched down in front of you, syringe still in hand. Your gaze was fixed on it, you only noticed their other hand when it gently cupped your cheek, its thumb caressing the sore, acne littered, skin. Immediately and without any hesitation, you leaned into the touch, tilting your head towards their hand.
“I would never hurt you,” they promised.
In the blink of an eye, the hand was at the back of your neck, pinching it from left and right. You let out a pained hiss, as you folded in on yourself, their strong arm guiding you further.
Your face connected with the cold floor, and for a moment all you could register was your labored breath. Then, a dull sting appeared in your upper arm. The needle had been inserted. And then it was gone as quickly as it appeared.
You felt your muscles growing limp almost instantly, as the drug spread through your system, clouding your mind further and further as you sank into a dark abyss of nothingness.
Whatever happened next, you barely had any recollection of it. You were moved, manhandled, strong hands working your body for you.
When you started to come back to yourself, you noticed your lack of clothing instantly. Despite the air around you being warm, the floor was ice cold. Your hands were still tied together, but now by leather. There was also a thick collar, made of the same material, around your throat, a silver chain connecting it to your cuffed hands.
You weren’t in your usual cell anymore. This room was bigger. With different kinds of metal storage units lining the walls, and a table bolted to the floor at the very center of the room.
Most importantly, you weren’t alone.
There were people in the room with you. You recognized the Nurse’s calves immediately. They had lied to you. They didn’t make it better. Whatever they had given you the evening before, it wasn’t affecting you any less now. The painful feeling of something heavy throbbing between your legs was still there.
Next to the Nurse stood a person you haven’t seen before. He looked eerily similar, his hair just slightly shorter, with more gray sprinkled in between. You could spot a pair of sturdy leather suspenders, peaking out from under his white lab coat. Despite your upset at your captor, you could not stop yourself from wishing for the Doctor to remove the coat, so you could get a better look at how the suspenders framed his torso. Especially in that tight, black shirt he was wearing underneath.
“You were right, my love,” the Doctor said to the Nurse, giving them a gentle, but deranged smile, as he caressed their face with his thumb. They leaned into the touch, closing their eyes and letting out a soft sigh. “He really is prettier when he is lucid.”
You watch their exchange, mouth agape. You had absolutely no recollection of ever meeting this guy.
The Doctor let go of the face of his partner in crime and turned towards you. The sparkle in his eyes sent shivers down your spine. Every fiber of your body screamed danger.
“My Nurse tells me you can be a very well behaved boy,” the Doctor said, something sinister gleaming in his eyes. “Let’s see if they were right. Up!”
You wanted to obey to the command. You knew you should. But you didn’t. Instead you kept sitting on the floor, motionless, moving your gaze away from the Doctor’s face and down to his legs.
He sighed, stepping closer to you. The Doctor’s hand appeared in your field of view, moving towards your head. You didn’t think. A growl slipped through your fletched teeth, announcing your displeasure as the hand grew closer. Then you snapped at him, almost catching his hand between your teeth.
The Doctor pulled his hand back long enough to not fall victim to the wrath of your bite, only to slap you across your face. You howled in pain, falling to the floor and letting out a pained sob. It only earned you another sigh from the Doctor.
“He isn’t normally this difficult,” the Nurse defended you, gently laying their hand on the Doctor’s shoulder. “He’s just having a difficult time with the hormones, their effects are at their strongest right now. It was his first injection yesterday. Don’t be too hard on him.”
The Doctor turned towards the Nurse, taking both of their hands into his, a warm smile on his lips. He lifted their hands up to his face, kissing their knuckles. “You’re right, you’re right.”
“I know what he needs,” the Nurse’s smile grew even wider, revealing their tiny, yellow teeth. They freed their hands from the Doctor’s gentle grasp and walked over to one of the walls, lined with rows and rows of leather gear. They grabbed one of the items, returning back to the Doctor and holding it up for him to take. “Would you do me the honor, my love?”
The Doctor wrapped his hand around both the Nurse’s and the item in their hand, cupping their face with the other. He pressed a short kiss to their cheek, before releasing them and approaching you with the bundle of leather straps dangling from his hand.
You swallowed hard, backing up towards the wall. But his strides were long and fast, faster than you. And before you knew it the Doctor was behind you, holding you between his legs by pressing his knees into your sides.
You screamed, thrashing from side to side, trying to throw him off, but to no avail. Before you knew it, there was thick leather covering the lower half of your face. You could feel air passing through tiny metal eyelids in front of your mouth and nose, as thick straps were buckled at the back of your head and in the nape of your neck.
Sweat and condensation built up immediately underneath the muzzle, making the material stick to your skin uncomfortably. You wanted to continue to scream. You tried to. But all that came out was muffled squealing.
The Doctor’s hand, now gloved, found its way back into your hair, grabbing a fistful of it and yanking upwards. You wailed into the muzzle, tears stinging in your eyes, as you scrambled to get up, so that you might get a bit of relief from the pain on your scalp.
“Much better,” the Doctor muttered once you finally stood on your feet, shaking and pressing your cuffed hands to your chest, in a pathetic attempt to cover yourself.
Your eyes shot over to the Nurse, who had grabbed a clipboard and a pen, smiling at you warmly. They looked at you with such deep pride in their eyes, it was sick.
“I should have never doubted you, dearest. He really did develop beautifully,” the Doctor praised, less you and more his partner. It made your stomach churn.
His gaze was still fixed to the front of your body, wandering up and down. “Really nice hair growth, especially for the short duration of his treatment. He’s come so far.”
The Doctor lay a nitrile clad finger on your fists, putting pressure on them. It was a clear signal for you to lower your hands, so he could inspect your chest. You swallowed audibly before letting his finger guide your hands.
There was no affection or desire in the Doctor’s eyes as he looked over your chest, one hand still firm in your hair, while the other made sure your hands stayed where they were. He held you at a full arm’s length, yet he was still way too close for your liking. Despite the off putting professionalism of his gaze, the moment was way too intimate. You barely dared to breathe, in fear you’d let out a moan and collapse on him. Ready to be taken.
“We’ll have to operate on that,” the Doctor stated very matter of factly, letting go of your hair and hands. The sudden lack of pull on your head made you almost sink to your knees. This time, you couldn’t hold back the sigh of release. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment.
The Doctor took a step back, eyeing you up and down again, and slowly started to make his way around you.
“Fat redistribution has definitely started, but I think I want to put him on a different diet. More carbs, speed things up a little.”
He talked about you as if you were cattle. Livestock. Just a mere animal. An object, to be changed at his will and to his liking.
Again, you shot a pleading look towards the Nurse, who kept scribbling things down on their clipboard. You couldn’t expect them to help you. They were the one who brought you to him. They wanted this, too. They wanted you, too.
“Oh, what happened here?” The Doctor had spotted the giant bruise that had formed on your butt cheek over night, very deliberately pressing down on it with his gloved finger. You let out a muffled yelp, flinching away from his painful touch.
“Not much,” the Nurse chuckled sweetly, it made your blood run cold, “he just threw me off while I was giving him his injection.”
The finger lifted from your sore skin. Your eyes followed the Doctor as he slowly sauntered over to the Nurse. He cupped their face in his hands, forcing them to look him in the eyes. The grip was visibly rough. Their skin was already growing pale where his fingertips dug in. Still, you observed them relaxing into the touch, eyelids fluttering shut and a soft purr sounding from the back of their throat.
“I don’t quite believe you, Nurse.” The Doctor’s voice came out as a hiss. It made the tiny hairs in the back of your neck stand up, but the Nurse’s calm smile just seemed to grow wider. They sighed, placing one of their hands on the Doctor’s.
“You’re right, I lied,” they admitted, “I was annoyed by his disobedience, so I messed up the injection a bit.”
“How did you mess it up, love?”
They sighed again, but this time it came out sounding almost like a soft moan. “I didn’t clean the area prior, didn’t insert the needle at a proper angle. I also didn’t pull it out correctly,” they paused for a moment, their eyes fluttering open and connecting with the Doctor’s. It was the look so deranged and full of love, it made you jealous and sick all at once. “You should have seen how beautiful his skin looked when it pulled up with the needle.”
The Doctor growled, deep in the back of his throat. He sounded like an animal about to devour its prey. “I love when you mistreat our pets.”
You watched in horror as his lips crashed into the Nurse’s, forcing them open and pressing his tongue into their mouth. The Nurse responded immediately by letting out obscene moans, their hands roaming over and around his upper body, gripping tightly on the lapels of his lab coat, pulling him closer.
One of the Doctor’s hands let go of the Nurse’s face, traveling down and groping their behind through their white gown, pulling their body even closer to his own. They made a high pitched noise, before grinding their hips against the Doctor’s.
Your captors were so engrossed with each other, you thought they might have forgotten you standing in the room with them. And with the way the Doctor was currently pushing the Nurse backwards against the metal table in the center of the room, you were sure they were about to fuck.
But they didn’t. The Doctor pulled himself away from the Nurse, a warm smile on his face as he brushed a couple of loose strands of hair out of their face. “I want to inspect his genitals now. Strap him to the table, will you?”
“Anything for you, my love,” the Nurse smiled, giving the Doctor one last peck on the lips, before pushing him away from themself.
They walked over, coming to a halt right in front of you. Their finger hooked into the ring that dangled on the collar around your neck, pulling you towards the table. You hesitated. There was no way you could stop what was about to happen, you knew that, but you still couldn’t bring your limbs to move.
The Nurse rolled their eyes at you, giving you a very displeased look halfway over their shoulder, before giving the collar an abrupt tug. Strong enough to make you stumble forward, and to make your neck ache.
You followed them, head bowed down. Not able to bare the sight of the Doctor’s dark smile, or the artificial care in the Nurse’s eyes.
Climbing on the table felt humiliating in a way you’ve never felt before. You had been stripped of your humanity and pride for so long now, but this was you actively giving these things up.
The metal felt cold against your skin, making goosebumps rise all over your body. You shifted on your back, trying to get as comfortable as your current position would allow you to get. You had to roll your head to your side, so the buckle of your muzzle would stop digging into the back of your head.
The Nurse took your hands, unclasping the carabiners that tied the cuffs to each other. They moved your arms for you, hooking the rings on your cuffs to hard points on the table. Next thing your feet followed. You kept your eyes trained to the ceiling, ignoring the sting of the buckle at the back of your head, as leather cuffs were wrapped around your ankles. The Nurse’s warm hands moved your feet up, bending your legs at the knees and spreading them apart, before chaining your ankles to the table in this position.
The position exposed you completely. You could feel the air shift around your genitalia. Tears stung in your eyes. You couldn’t stop yourself from pathetically whimpering into your muzzle.
Next a leather strap was pulled over your abdomen, pressing down on your pelvis. Your breath started to pick up speed as you continued to lose more and more of both your mobility and dignity.
You let your head roll to the side, squeezing your eyes shut as the tears finally started to spill over, wetting your cheeks and the table beneath you. Quiet sobs started to shake your body. You couldn’t hold it back any longer.
A click could be heard close to your ear, immediately after you heard a leather strap hitting the metal table, grazing your shoulder on its way.
“Oh dear,” the Nurse’s voice sounded so close to you. You had to remind yourself that any care you thought you could hear in it was false. Even as their hand cupped your cheek, their thumb gently brushing away your tears. Its warmth radiated through their nitrile gloves and the thick leather of your muzzle. You didn’t want to lean into your touch, but all fight had left you.
You opened your eyes, gazing up at the Nurse through your tears. Their face was scrunched up in what looked like concern and sympathy, if they were even capable of such feelings. But they seemed so sincere, you couldn’t help it as your sobs started to ease.
“It’ll be alright. The Doctor will make you feel better. I promise,” they cooed, lifting their hand from your cheek to stroke your hair out of your face.
The Nurse flashed you another warm smile, before their hand came up from underneath the table with another leather strap, that they hooked on the side of your collar. After that they got up and positioned themself at the head of the table, clipboard and pen in hand.
You had lost sight of the Doctor, so lost in your agony that you completely forgot he was still in the room with you. His reappearance in your line of view almost made you jump. Sensing your spike in agitation, the Nurse lay one of their hands on your forehead, again, gently stroking over your hair. You sighed, relaxing slightly, but not able to shake the edge.
The Doctor pulled an aluminum cart with him, taking his place between your legs with the cart at arm’s length. You tried to lift your head to get a glimpse at the items scattered on it, but were held back by the leather straps that were tied to your neck.
“Shhh,” the Nurse shushed you, gently pressing on your head, making you lower it until you settled back on the cold table.
“Now, let’s see…” the Doctor started off, laying his gloved hands on your knees to push them apart even further. “The testosterone has definitely done something.”
He lifted his hands off your knees, now pressing using a finger to press down on your pubic area, while using two others to spread the labia majora and fully expose the effects the hormones had on your body. You could hear clattering on the cart, and when it stopped something was pressed to your shaft.
“Two point five centimeters unerect, mark that down, Nurse,” the Doctor ordered, and the warm hand on your temples disappeared. “How much growth since start of the treatment is that?”
“One point four,” replied the Nurse, their hand not returning to ease your discomfort.
The Doctor let out a satisfied hum, returning his attention back to the cart for a moment. “Lets do the erect measurements next.”
His fingers returned, this time cold and slippery with lubricant, as he took your shaft between his thumb and index, gently stroking it up and down. You couldn’t fight back the guttural moan, only muffled by the leather covering your face. It was obscene, especially for the little stimulation you got. The little stimulation you didn’t even want. But it felt so good. So relieving.
The Nurse’s hand returned to your temples shortly, scratching your hairline for a brief moment. They sounded pleased when you heard them say, “He likes it.”
They were right. You did like it. You wanted to push your hips upwards. Wanted to fuck the Doctor’s fingers. Wanted to cum in his hands. If it wasn’t for that forsaken leather strap holding down your hips.
The fingers disappeared, and whatever was held against your clitoris only a moment ago was back.
“Four point eight.” The object disappeared again. “Let’s check for vaginal atrophy next.”
You felt your stomach drop. Getting externally stimulated against your will was bad enough, but having something inserted? Just the thought of it made your chest constrict. It might hurt. No, it will hurt. And even worse, you might like it.
The snapping of gloves being removed sounded from somewhere close to your abdomen. Panic started to rise up in your chest again. You whimpered into your muzzle, looking up at the Nurse through tears. They looked down at you, eyebrows furrowed into a deep frown. Their face made you consider they might actually be concerned, in their own fucked up way.
The Nurse put on a caring smile again, gently massaging your scalp. “Don’t worry, dear, it will all be fine. The Doctor is very good at his job. If you stay calm, you might even enjoy yourself,” they cooed.
Their words didn’t feel good. You couldn’t keep yourself from quietly sobbing into your muzzle, while the Nurse kept shooing sweet nothings at you, about how everything will be fine and how proud they were of you.
The strap holding down your hips was removed, giving you a moment to slightly readjust your position on the table. But you didn’t get to enjoy your newfound mobility for long. There was the sound of the Doctor putting on a fresh pair of gloves, before his hands returned. One of them pressing down on your lower abdomen, the other was pressing his index against your opening.
The unlubricated finger pressed inside you, burning at the rim as it forced you open. You let out a high pitched noise, that would’ve been a scream, if it wasn’t for the muzzle keeping your mouth tightly shut. You couldn’t keep from curling in on yourself, causing the straps attached to your collar to pull taught and making it dig into your throat. The Nurse’s gloved hand was on your shoulder immediately, gently pushing you back down on the table, while they continued to mumble meaningless phrases of appeasement.
You felt every millimeter of the finger, as it slowly pushed inside you, pressing up against your walls. You could hear your own labored breathing through the muzzle, as you tried to relax, to ease some of the pain.
“He’s starting to get wet.” The Doctor’s voice was barely above a whisper, yet it cut through your pained moans like a knife, making the Nurse’s head jump up.
“Is he?” they asked, their voice breathless.
The Doctor hummed approvingly in reply, starting to pull his finger back slowly, only to push it in again. You moaned, trying not to buck your hips. He was right. You were starting to get wet. The minimal lubrication already eased the pain.
A second finger was added, making your eyes shoot wide open. You hadn’t expected it so soon. You weren’t ready yet. Yet, the sudden spike in pain felt so delicious. If it wasn’t for the muzzle you would’ve started to let out obscene open mouthed moans.
“Tell me more, Doctor,” the Nurse pressed, sounding eager, their neck and cheeks flushed. “How wet is he?”
“He’s practically dripping already,” the Doctor replied, and the Nurse quietly moaned somewhere high up in their throat. “He’s so wet, I might just add a third finger and he wouldn’t even complain about it.”
The Nurse was starting to bend over you, keeping themself upright on their arms just above your head. They had closed their eyes, mouth hanging open as more and more moans spilled out of it. The feeling this wasn’t about vaginal atrophy at all started to creep up in the back of your head.
The fingers inside you picked up speed, brushing against a sweet spot deep inside you with every push. You tried bucking your hips, to get the angle just right, but the Doctor’s hand on your lower abdomen kept you pinned down to the table. You could feel his fingers moving inside you where it pushed down on your stomach. It was just another sensation that made your eyes roll into the back of your head.
“Doctor,” the Nurse breathed out between moans, their voice high and strained, begging, “Doctor, please! Please keep talking, my love. I need to know how good he’s being for you, need to know he’s doing well.”
“He’s doing amazing, sweetheart,” the Doctor praised. “He’s doing so well, being such a good boy. You picked such a lovely pet, never picked so good. Love fucking him with my fingers, you cannot imagine how tight he is.”
The Nurse wailed in pleasure, collapsing on their elbow. They were sweating, their brows furrowed tightly, and stray hairs were sticking to their forehead. They were the image of pleasure, right above your face, as the Doctor kept fucking you relentlessly with his fingers. You barely recognized them with their blissful expression, they looked otherworldly.
The Nurse’s obscene moans mixed with your muffled sounds of unwanted pleasure, almost completely drowning out the low grunts the Doctor had started to release.
“You look so pretty,” he groaned out, his fingers grinding pushing into you just so, making you push up your chest from the table. It didn’t even occur to you, that he wasn’t talking to you. “All sweaty and flushed, barely holding yourself up. Darling, I love how lost you get when I fuck our pets.”
The Nurse shook at his words, a drop of drool starting to leak from their lower lip, slowly lowering itself until it connected to your forehead, mixing with your own sweat. You could feel the familiar tightness starting to build up in your stomach.
“Just like that, I can tell you’re close,” the Doctor said, his voice breathless, he sounded like he was about to orgasm himself.
“So fucking close,” the Nurse confirmed. Their hands were balled into tight fists, knuckles turning white. They gritted their teeth.
“That’s right,” the Doctor cooed at them, “Cum for me. Wanna see you cum with our pet.”
That was your complete undoing. You were just a vessel for them, to use for nothing more than their own pleasure. Your whole body tensed up against your restraints as you came, trying to scream into your muzzle. Your own voice mixing up with the scream of pleasure the Nurse let out above you.
The orgasm washed over you, like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Waves of pleasure worked through every cell of your body, growing from deep in your core and pushing into the tips of your fingers. You felt yourself come undone fully, losing yourself in the pleasure, almost as if it was bursting out of your body. You could feel your shaft throbbing with every spurt.
The Doctor’s fingers kept moving, slowing down as you rode out your orgasm, until they eventually retreated. Your chest was rising and sinking quickly, as you tried to catch your breath. The Doctor’s hands vanished from your body and the sound of gloves being removed snapped through the room.
The Nurse was still panting over your face.
“Thank you, Nurse. Have him ready for surgery tomorrow, I want to proceed with his mastectomy first thing in the morning.”